The Mortmain Mountains
by coolmarauders
Summary: Four Volunteers go up Mount Fraught to celebrate False Spring. Even if you are intruiged by this summary, please do not read any more of this oneshot, seeing as it will only cause you pain and misery. By Prongs


**Disclaimer: **Lemony Snicket/Daniel Handler owns everything in the books.

**Author's Note: **Look at pages 26-27 in _The Ersatz Elevator_ and you will see what this fic is about. Jerome says, "You're very adventurous! I like that in a person! Your mother was very adventurous, too. You know, she and I were very good friends a ways back. We hiked up Mount Fraught with some friends- gosh; it must have been twenty years ago. Mount Fraught was known for having dangerous animals on it, but your mother wasn't afraid. But then, swooping out of the sky-" So here it is.

Oh yes, and I am having the Baudelaire mother be Beatrice; I read it in a fic (I'm not sure what one) and I thought it made sense: the father's name is Bertrand, so it seems like it would be alliterative. And though on a different website (The Unofficial Lemony Snicket FAQ) didn't think so, I would like to believe it; we will probably find out in either _The Beatrice Letters_ or _Book the Thirteenth_.

* * *

Dear Reader,

If you are reading this, run away immediately. Do not even look at the rest of this letter; it will only cause you to cry uncontrollably.

Like cows, dogs, and hamburgers, friends can be helpful at the best of times. In this story, you will read an account of four friends hiking up a square peak. Do not read this under any circumstances, especially if you do not like mysterious things swooping out of the sky, oddly shaped mountains, nests, or picnics Reading it will only cause you pain and misery.

Though my eyes are swollen from the sobbing that I have done while writing this tragic tale, it is my duty to record everything related to the Baudelaires, such as the story that you should not read, ever.

With all due respect,

Lemony Snicket

* * *

For Beatrice- 

_Dead men rise up never. _

_Neither do dead women. _

Some things, such as markers, passwords for volunteers, and food, are meant to be shared. Hiking up a mountain for False Spring is one of those things that should be shared. At that moment in time, it was being shared by two women named Kit and Beatrice and two men named Bertrand and Jerome. Hiking up the mountain had always been a tradition- a word which here means, "something they did every single year, no matter what"- and this year was no year to break it.

"Kit," said Bertrand loudly, "Are the Snow Scouts coming up this year?"

Through a case of mistaken identity- a phrase which here means "Beatrice answering a question directed to Kit Snicket"- Beatrice answered, "No, they aren't this year."

Bertrand smiled at the answer. It meant that it would be quieter for the small group of friends. How wrong he turned out to be; I weep as I think of it and as an Asian woman plucks off all of the hairs in my eyebrows so I will not be recognized.

"Jerome!" Beatrice said, reaching out for the Squalor. He was teetering- a word which here means "standing very close to the edge of the path" on the mountain. If it had not been for Beatrice's thinking, he might have tumbled off of the square mountain to a splattering death.

"Thank you Beatrice," Jerome said gratefully.

Laughing and talking merrily, though despair was soon to fall on them, the group hiked up the long path. The air was tinged-a word which here means, "had a slight hint of"- warmth to it; the False Spring was near. If you have ever worn a heavy winter coat on a rather warm day, you would know how the volunteers felt while traveling to the top of the odd peak of Mount Fraught. The perspiration was sticking to their skin; making them feel sticky and uncomfortable- it was rather like being hit with a tangliatte grande, except there was no giant noodle.

"Beatrice," Kit whispered.

"What?" Beatrice whispered back. She moved to the back of the pack- a phrase which here means "moved to the back, where Kit Snicket was walking"- in order to here her dear friend better.

"Bertrand keeps looking at you," Kit said.

"He does?" Beatrice asked, "I hadn't noticed." She shot a quick glance at him, and sure enough, Bertrand Baudelaire looked away hurriedly. Beatrice smiled at Kit, who was working on not letting the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile. It was arduous-a word which here means "very hard"- for Kit not to giggle. She loved to laugh, though lately she has not done so.

"Beatrice!" Jerome called elatedly, "Look at the stream!" The woman who is now dead and gone hurried over to see what Jerome had found.

"Amazing!" Beatrice whispered. The salmon of the Stricken Stream were leaping around in what looked like a celebration dance.

"Perhaps they are preparing for the False Spring too," Jerome said. Of course, fish do not normally dance, unless it is a single tropical fish living with a family in an enormous hotel waiting for a Very Fancy Doily. Then a fish might have reason to leap about.

"Or perhaps they are jumping for joy," Beatrice said. Fish might very well have reason to jump for joy, as I would if I could see my love one last time.

"Keep up!" Bertrand yelled from where he was standing, quite a ways down the path.

"I'm hungry," Kit said as the others hurried to reach them.

"Do you need a second breakfast?" Bertrand offered in an accented voice.

"No, our picnic should arrive shortly," Kit said.

"Speak of the devil,"- a phrase which here means, "Wow! We were just talking about something and something in real life having to do with that happened!"- said Jerome.

"Our enemies did not catch the picnic or us this time," Beatrice said gladly. The rumbling of stomachs was catching from volunteer to volunteer, and soon everyone was sitting down to monogrammed napkins: two with B, one with J and one with K embroidered ornately- a word which here means "fancily"- onto crisp white napkins.

A blanket was set up and the food placed upon it. There was bread, cheese, meat, fruits, and vegetables of all kinds lying on the checkered tablecloth. In the center of it all was a large platter with a familiar insignia: The eye of V.F.D.

"This Valuable Fish Delicacy is great!" Jerome said, aware of the three initials. He thought that there could be nothing wrong with eating fish high up in the mountains.

A loud noise like low thunder came suddenly from a cave near where the comrades were eating.

"That was a loud noise!" said Bertrand, "Like low thunder, coming from one of the caves."

"We should pack up," said Kit, "Even though we haven't finished eating."

"Well, I don't want to argue," said Jerome and he put down his Valuable Fish Delicacy spread and crackers.

The loud, thunder-like noise was not what the four volunteers thought it was. They were right in one respect-a phrase which here means "the volunteers were right about one thing"-that it was a dangerous animal. I can almost repress the howl of misery that threatens to come out of me as I type these words down. Many animals lurk around the Mortmain Mountains and have become very intelligent. The animal that had roared was tricked into working for a different side with different people and had been alerting those people to what they needed to be alerted of.

"Have you heard from L lately?" Beatrice asked quietly of Kit.

"I haven't," said Kit. She looked distraught, wondering what her dear brother L could be doing that would not even let him send a coded letter.

"Has L contacted you, Bertrand?" asked Beatrice of the other B.

"No. Kit?" Bertrand wondered out loud.

"No," said Beatrice sadly. If only there was some way that I could go back in time and write a letter to Beatrice, telling her that L was fine and would love her for all eternity, and to not have tea with Esmé under any circumstances. But unless someone-like Violet Baudelaire-invents a time machine, my hopes are futile- a word which here means "useless".

Beatrice put on a smile for Jerome and asked him, "What animal might that have been! It sounded fearsome!"

"It would certainly be an adventure to find out," said Jerome warmly.

"I wonder if we'll ever know…" Beatrice said.

"We can always come back for the next False Spring," said Jerome. Beatrice grinned, her lovely face lighting up.

"And we will have even more adventures then," she teased.

"We are almost to the peak," called Bertrand.

"Oh, good," said Kit, "It's getting warmer and that means it's getting closer to the False Spring."

Beatrice walked faster to reach her friend Kit. They talked together quietly as the others did the same.

Beatrice was thinking about what could have happened to her love, L. She had not heard from him in the longest time- not even in a code that she couldn't decipher. It was disconcerting-a word which here means "made Beatrice feel uneasy and confused"- especially because of what L had said to her.

There is too little ink in my typewriter for me to say exactly what L had said to B. I must conserve- a word which here means "save"- my ink for recording the unfortunate events of the Baudelaire orphans. But those words will remain in my mind for a long, long time.

Kit was also thinking about L, though she added an extra "S" to make it L.S. Nobody had heard from him; she wondered whether his enemies had been right after all.

Bertrand was thinking about Beatrice thinking about L. He did not want Beatrice to be thinking about L. Because of a mistake, Beatrice ended up spending most of her time thinking about Bertrand instead of L.

Jerome was thinking about what adventures could possibly be waiting for them up at the peak of the mountain. Perhaps there would be a message from V.F.D. Or possibly an animal, waiting for them. Well, the only way to find out was to trek- a word which here means "work their way to the top of Mount Fraught"-onwards.

"There it is!" Kit said loudly, pointing her finger to the summit. They were indeed very close, though I wished that they had been very far away instead.

"Let's hurry," Bertrand ordered and walked even faster. Their coats now more uncomfortable than ever, the group almost ran up to the summit.

"We're here," Beatrice said in a weary voice.

"Look at the view!" Jerome said animatedly- a word which here means "excitedly".

The three volunteers clamored to the edge-but not so close as to fall off- to see the view from the top. As you know, mountains are very high, so you can see many things down below. Indeed, Kit, Jerome, Bertrand, and Beatrice could see almost every detail of the Mortmain Mountains. They could see the long and winding road leading up to the top. They could see the Stricken Stream flowing, the ice almost broken.

But the thing you cannot see from looking off of a mountain, is what lies above.

It is not too late for you to go pick up a nice, happy book about magical fairies that skip and prance around, having marvelous adventures. Instead of reading this sad tale, you could go and watch your favorite movie, whatever it happens to be. After you walk away hurriedly from this distressing story, you could play with ponies or eat a candy bar- things much better to do with you time than read a story in where tears are shared all around. Please, walk away now, and do not think about this ever, ever again. Ever.

This is your last warning. Go back now, before it is too late.

Swooping down from the sky came an enormous eagle, with is talons outstretched. It flew silently, despite its size. The poor volunteers were too busy gazing at the view to look behind them. I weep for their misfortune and my own misfortune, as a kindergarten teacher who thinks I have done a terrible crime that I did not commit is currently searching for me.

Kit was the first to turn around and utter a terrible shriek. The eagle burst into action-a phrase which here means "immediately took the beautiful Beatrice in its talons and flew away"- and flew away as fast as it could.

"Help!" Beatrice screamed helplessly from the eagle's tight grip.

"Beatrice!" Bertrand bellowed back, running to try to stop the terrible eagle. But the bird was too large, and was flying to fast for a mere man to catch him. Jerome joined in the fight, but he could not help either. Kit could only stand there in shock, not believing what she was seeing.

The last word that the three volunteers heard from Beatrice's mouth was "L!" And as the echo faded away in to the distance, I am very sorry to say that they lost hope.

"Losing hope" is a curious expression. One cannot lose hope; it is not an object. "To lose hope" means that the person has given up. Giving up is one of the least productive things to do in most situations. But now, I highly suggest that you lose hope that there will be a happy ending to this story, for there will never be. The only thing I can tell you is that unknown to all of them, Beatrice's last word was watching from atop another summit, watching the eagle take her away to a nest, and losing hope with every beat of its wings.


End file.
